Awakening
by OldSFfan
Summary: String comes around in the hospital to find his world has changed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: These characters and original scenario belong to the copyright holders. I'm just getting them off the shelf to visit with them for a while. Following "Blackjack," I wanted to explore String regaining consciousness in the hospital to find his brother there, to find out whether Dom survived, and I wanted to explore whether Saint John is Half Pint's father. This story is becoming episodic. Bouchard couldn't have arranged the bombing and the careful trail of clues all by himself from Burma so the ultimate bad guy is still out there, possibly John Bradford Horn, and I can't figure out how to catch him. So this may end up just a couple vignettes.

Awakening

"String, it's time to wake up," Dom's voice. "String."

"I'm trying, Dom," Stringfellow Hawke complained. Or thought he did. But how could it be Dom? It happened all over again in his mind. Eyes tightly closed, he remembered running toward the helicopter. He could see Dom set the ship back down and start to climb out, he remembered seeing the flash of the explosion and feeling the awful heat. There was a deafening boom as he was lifted off his feet. Then he was lying on his back on the tarmac with his arm over his eyes in the middle of the smell of burning rubber, burning metal, maybe burning flesh. He wanted to get to Dom but couldn't move, and all the while he knew it was too late, too late for Dom and too late for Saint John, because now he'd never be rescued.

"Come on, String."

"Come on, String," Saint John echoed Dom. His brother? Voices seemed very far away or as if they were heard through a wall. The sound of Saint John's voice jerked him awake. His eyes were shut but there was too much light.

"Not again." The sound of his own voice, a harsh whisper, startled Hawke. Talking set off a coughing fit.

"Not again what, String?" his brother said. But Saint John was missing in action, missing for over fifteen years. No, he'd sent Jo to rescue him. Was it the East Germans? Had they kidnapped him again? "String, look at me."

His left arm was in a cast. Both arms were tied down. Hawke struggled against the straps. Black panic was rising up to choke him.

"Steady, String. I called the nurse." Dom again. "They tied your hands because you were yanking out the IV."

He couldn't make any sense out of what Dom said. His brother's voice again. "Come on, String. Look at me."

This time Hawke tried to focus on the man standing by his bed: blonde hair with some gray, face tanned to leathery brown, blue-gray eyes, very, very thin. Exactly how he imagined his brother would look. "Saint John?"

"Who else would I be?"

"Wasn't you, before."

"Dom, what is he talking about?"

"The East Germans grabbed him and brainwashed him a couple years ago to get their hands on Airwolf, made him think he was waking up from a coma and someone else was you. I thought he was over it."

The nurse walked in. "Mr. Hawke."

Both String and Saint John said, "Yeah?"

The nurse said calmly, "Stringfellow."

"Untie me."

"Not until you stop trying to get out of bed."

"Got to get…"

"You've got to stop fighting us. Your leg is in traction. You have to lie still and give it a chance to heal."

String looked down for the first time and could see the elaborate apparatus that suspended his left leg above the bed. "How bad?"

"A compound fracture, so you're going to have to stay put for a while longer."

"Where?"

"You're in Northridge Hospital. You were in the trauma center at Cedars-Sinai, then you were transferred here." She started checking his blood pressure, stuck a thermometer in his mouth, and bustled around for a few minutes checking dressings and tubes. He fell asleep.

When he awoke the next time, he looked around the room, very cautiously. He was very stiff. Dominic Santini was in the next bed, asleep, with the blankets elevated over his legs, the beloved face battered and decorated with gauze dressings, Dom, breathing, alive. The odd fragments of memory and voices from the last few hours, or was it days, fell into place. Dom was alive.

He looked around to the other side of the room. Jo Santini sat with her blonde head bowed over a book. "Jo?" Trying to speak made him cough again. It took a moment to stop.

"String. Oh, thank God."

"Jo." She rushed to his side and leaned over the bed rail. "Saint John?"

"He's here. He's stretched out on a couple chairs in the hallway. Let me get him."

"Jo, untie me." It was hard to be urgent at a whisper.

"I should get permission."

"I'm lucid."

"Oh, bother." She undid the straps that held his hands to the bed rails. She kissed his cheek and he wrapped his good arm around her shoulders for a moment.

"String, do you need something for your throat?"

He nodded. Jo poured some water into a glass. She slid an arm beneath his head and let him sip the water.

"Better." His voice was stronger.

Jo stepped out into the hall and returned with a sleepy Saint John rubbing his eyes. "String, do you believe it's me, now?"

"Saint John?"

"It's me."

"How?"

"You sent Jo to rescue me." Saint John enfolded Hawke's shoulders in his arms. "My God, String."

Hawke wrapped his free arm and the broken arm in its cast around Saint John's neck. "Sinj." He clutched his brother. "Really you, Sinj?" Tears started in his eyes.

Saint John rested his face against his brother's head. "It's really me, String."

"Now that's a sight I waited sixteen years to see," Dom said from across the room, his voice thick.

Hawke didn't want to let go of his brother but eventually he fell back against the pillow, good hand wrapped around Saint John's wrist. "What happened?" he asked. "Where were you?"

Saint John said, "Well, after I was captured…" He looked down and realized that String was asleep.

"Well, it's a long story," he murmured.

Later, String asked Dom, "How did I get here?"

"What do you remember?"

"Helicopter blew up. Dom, I knew you had to be dead."

"I thought you were."

The dry chuckle hurt his throat, but Hawke said, "Me too." He had to swallow to continue. "Dominic."

Dom said, "We dodged the big one, String."

"Looks like we did." Hawke swallowed again. "I can barely hear you."

"One of your eardrums is broken and the doctors say you're probably hearing some ringing. I am too. We're a fine pair. They'll operate to repair your eardrum when you're stronger. We'll try to talk louder. "

"I remember…" he rasped, but stopped. Jo walked into the room. "Jo, you went for Saint John, with Cait." He paused, "I was in ICU, then a hospital room? I saw Saint John there?"

"Yes, as soon as we got back. You were in intensive care. You insisted Cait and I should rescue Saint John. But Jason Locke and Mike Rivers agreed to come and I was afraid they'd stop me if I waited, so we went without Cait."

Hawke couldn't follow what she said, but he focused on what was most important to him. "Jo, thank you…same room as Dom."

"Saint John and I arranged it. We knew you'd be trying to find each other. And since you can't, it seemed easier to put you two together."

"Why can't Dom?"

"Nothing for you to worry about now," Dom said. "I survived to see my family whole again."

"Saint John?"

"I'm all right," he said, walking in.

Dom snorted. "He weighs about the same as he did in junior high school. His teeth are a mess. He's more sunburned than he ever got when he was surfing. And he's got all sorts of tropical parasites. But he's a sight for sore eyes."

Hawke looked around, bothered, searching for two other faces. "Cait? Le Van?"

"Le Van's staying with Cait. He's scared. We've been telling him that you're going to be all right. Cait will bring him tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Caitlin O'Shannessey came the next morning. "You were right," she told him. "You did it. It's unbelievable. I can hardly believe it, but Saint John was alive all along, and now he's home."<p>

"Does Archangel know?"

"I'll ask Jason. Apparently it's just Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III these days. Michael was transferred out of the country."

"Need to know," he muttered.

"And we have no need to know," she finished. "He may have no need to know." She sat back to look at him.

"How bad?"

"You haven't seen a mirror yet? I'll get you one. Your hair got singed off in patches but don't worry, it's growing back. Your beard is darker than your hair. You look kinda scraggly at the moment."

"Rugged, not scraggly."

"I calls 'em like I sees 'em." She realized he was covering fear with bravado. "You look okay, String. You have some serious burns, but on your head, neck, face, and hands they're superficial."

"What are the damages?" he asked carefully, fearing her answer. The doctor had gone over his condition with him, probably more than once, but he hadn't been lucid enough to understand her.

"Well, you were running into the blast when it went off, so you were hurt as badly as Dom. He was moving away, thanks to you, and it blew him away from the helicopter. You saved his life, String. You were blown the other way. They think you protected your eyes and face with your arms, the leather jacket protected your arms, your back and chest. You have a broken arm but that's minor, your left leg is badly broken. You and Dom were both hit by a lot of debris. Your hands got burned but they're healing. Your legs were burned. You have several broken ribs. One punctured your lung and collapsed it, on top of smoke inhalation. You were out for the first few days with a severe concussion. You're having trouble hearing. But you survived. You survived and the doctors think you're going to be all right. You're both going to be all right. It's almost a miracle."

"After all that, are you sure?" he asked.

Cait got very serious. "Don't joke about it."

"Sorry."

"String, Jo and I were going to get Saint John. But she was practicing with Airwolf when Mike Rivers and Jason Locke found the Lair. They were willing to go with her, so they went without me. But the worst part was no one would let me see you in the hospital for three days after Jason left. Someone had you moved out of intensive care. You almost died, String. When Jo got back they got you back into ICU. You were there until two days ago. You woke up a few times but I guess you don't remember that. Jason is trying to find out who gave the order to move you into that isolated room and he's posted guards outside this room."

"Staying away from me might have kept you safe. I don't know Rivers. I met Locke once. But I owe them." He scratched at his face. "Brush my teeth? Shave?"

"I'll go get a nurse. Are you okay right now?Are you hurting?"

"Itches."

"String."

"What?"

"I just like saying it. You were out for so long. I talked to you."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "You know, I think I remember that."

The slender redhead grinned happily, and went to get a nurse.

Dom was awake by the time a nurse's aide came to help Hawke wash up. "Dom, how about I keep the beard and get love beads and sandals. What do you think?"

The guffaw was everything good about Dom. Hawke was smiling as he scrubbed his teeth with stiff, sore hands. He needed quite a bit of help from the nurse. Shaving was harder and she did most of it. He was asleep when another nurse brought him lunch, the first food since he was injured. It was clear broth, jello, and tea, not coffee. He found that he had no appetite but dutifully finished some of it. Cait sat next to him, helping him with a spoon that his hands struggled to manage, chatting about Le Van, Santini Air, Tet, and her mother. He liked listening to her.

"Cait?"

"What?"

"Dreaming? Saint John is really back?"

"You're not dreaming. If you were, you wouldn't be dreaming you were stuck in this hospital bed, would you?" Cait kissed his cheek.

Saint John walked in. "Cait, I need to talk to String for a minute?"

"Oh, sure. I wanted to bring Half Pint in."

"Wait a minute, okay?"

He waited until she left the room. "String, are you awake enough to listen to me for a minute?"

Hawke's fire-reddened face broke into a happy smile. He said, "Saint John," and repeated it, "Saint John," just to hear the sound of his brother's name. "Sure I'm awake, Sinj." His slightly slurred words made that statement uncertain. "What's up?"

"Le Van isn't my son, String. There's no way he could be."

That brought String to full alertness. "Does he know?"

"I haven't told him."

"Let me tell him. Tell Cait to bring him in."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to keep him. I promised him."

"String."

"It's okay, Saint John. We tried to find other relatives and we hit a dead end. Since he's not your son, I think you're going to have a nephew." He twisted to see Dominic. "Dom, are you okay with getting a half-grown grandson?"

"I already think of him that way, String. He's a great kid."

Cait walked in with Le Van, her arm around his shoulders. The thin, half-Vietnamese twelve-year-old stood by Hawke's bed. He looked down, afraid to look Hawke in the eye. "What's up, Half Pint?"

"I don't think Saint John is my Dad."

"I know," Hawke said gently.

"You can't give me back to Uncle Darren. He's in jail."

"Would you mind if I asked you to stay with me?"

"You don't care that I'm not your nephew?"

"No, not at all. I'd really like it if you would stay with me. You're my ward now. Would you like to be my son?"

Le Van turned away. "No one really wants me, Uncle String. You're just being nice."

"People don't usually call me nice. Le, listen to me. It's hard for me to talk so let me say it just once, okay?"

Le turned back, reluctance on his face. "Okay."

"Your Mom tried to make a life for you and after you were separated, she tried to find you. Your aunt loved you and brought you to the United States. Darren may not be a good guy and he tried to trick me into bringing drugs into the country for him, but I think he cares about you. That night you went downtown, he was really upset. So you have several people who want you very much. Pretty good, huh?"

"I guess." He looked down shyly. "You really want me to be your son?"

"I'd be honored to have you for my son. Will you?"

Le shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Finally, he said, "Yes, Uncle String, I'd like to stay with you very much." Le straightened his shoulders. "But what should I call you?"

"How about String, or Dad? Not Hawke, because Saint John might answer. Besides, you're going to be a Hawke, too." Hawke fumbled with the bed railing until it dropped. "Come here."

Le reached around Hawke's shoulders. "String."

Hawke embraced him, awkwardly, because of the cast on his left arm.

"String, are you going to be okay?"

"Well, not right away, but I will be. Really. But I made sure that you'll be taken care of no matter what. Cait, Jo, and Dom, they would love to have you live with them. I already rewrote my will. Do you know what that is? You have a family now. Families are for keeps." Hawke started coughing and fumbled for the water on his bed table.

Cait filled his cup with water and let him sip from it. She set the cup down and stepped back.

Le Van asked, "Are you and Cait going to get married?"

"Why?"

"Then she'd be my Mom."

"Well, I don't know, yet. We haven't talked about it. One man can't push another man into something like that, you know. Or a woman. It's between me and Cait. And we're kind of embarrassing her right now."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Cait."

"That's okay. I'd like to be your friend, if I'm not your Mom."

String pushed his head back into his pillow, eyes closed for a minute. He was very tired, but he looked back at Le Van. "Then we're all set? Give me another hug."

Le Van hugged String again. "String, thank you."

"It's what you do for each other, father and son."

Cait asked, "Are we good?"

"We're better than good," String said. "We're family."


	2. Chapter 2

Continuing the exploration of String and Dom's survival, after the bombing at Santini Air in "Blackjack," including their realization of what the search for Saint John has cost them.

Awakening Continued: The Price Paid

The next morning, after a nurse had helped Dominic and String to wash and eat breakfast, before any family members came to visit and after the doctor had stopped in, String turned to look at Dom.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked.

"Tell you what?"

"They slipped last night. They left the screen open so I could see them changing the dressing on your leg."

"Damn. I was going to wait until you were a little stronger."

"Dom… Dom, how much is gone?"

"Left foot and lower leg. I still have my knee. They tell me it's lucky, it'll make it easier to use an artificial leg."

"Oh God, Dom, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm so…"

"String, stop it. I knew you'd give me this kinda nonsense. Are you sorry that you brought Saint John home?"

"Well, of course not. But I got you into this mess. Besides, it was Jo and her friends that rescued him."

"Only because of you. I would trade my leg for him again. Now I mean it." Dom's voice started to rise and he was gesturing with agitation, jerking the IV and various sensors. A nurse appeared at the door of the room but stopped as she took in the cause of his wildly fluctuating readings. "I could have walked away any time," Dom nearly a shouted, "but I backed you because I wanted to. Don't tell me that I shouldn't do for my son what you nearly did for your brother. If I could get out of this bed, I'd smack you right now like you were twelve years old again. No more bellyaching. I'll get an artificial leg and I'll be flying again, probably while you're still flat on your back!"

"But Dom…"

"Stop arguing with me! Now I mean it, String. You didn't set that bomb. And despite all the grumbling, yeah, I do a lot of grumbling, but despite all of it, I got to fly the Lady, and we got Saint John home. Sure, I am very sorry to lose my leg, but I've had nearly three weeks now to get used to the idea, and they already fitted me for a temporary artificial leg. They tell me the permanent one'll look pretty natural. Toni says she doesn't care. So once I've healed well enough to put some weight on it, and my back has healed up some, I'll be up and walking. From what the doctors tell me, you're stuck in traction for a few more weeks, and then you're stuck here a while longer, getting rehab, and you'll have a cast on that leg so big I'm gonna have trouble putting you in the car to take you home."

Somewhere between laughing and crying, Hawke raised his good hand in surrender. "All right. All right. I guess I'd be in big trouble if you have to get out of bed to smack me."

"Darned straight, and don't you forget it. Now don't you have something more pleasant to talk about? Some roommate you are." Dom switched on the television. "If you can't be decent company, I'll watch the Today show, maybe soap operas later. That'll teach you."


	3. Chapter 3

Continuing the exploration of String and Dom's survival, after the bombing at Santini Air in "Blackjack," concluding some unfinished business.

* * *

><p>Awakening, continued. It's Hard to Surrender the Pain<p>

* * *

><p>Cait pulled the paper sack of donuts from her purse. "Brought you guys a treat," she said. "I bet you could use a break from hospital food."<p>

"All right," Dom said, "I am getting so sick of what passes for food in this place that I sent some back last night." He gestured at String. "Even Mister Fish and Rabbit Food, here, sent some vegetables back."

Hawke grinned. "Dom is grousing because they have him on a diet."

"Oh," Cait said, suddenly embarrassed. "I shouldn't have brought these, should I?"

"Cait, you are performing a good deed," Dom assured her. "You are showing mercy to the wounded and the needy. How can that be a mistake?"

"How, indeed," she said, and kissed Dom on his cheek. "Are you sure you aren't Irish, with that gift of the gab you have?"

"That gift of the gab was Italian, originally."

Hawke watched the friendly sparring with deep contentment, despite being confined to the hospital bed, still depending on pain killers for comfort, still a little queasy from the concussion. Dom was alive and Saint John was home.

Cait reported, "So I dropped Le off at school, I walked Tet, who is getting tired of living in the city, and I have a charter scheduled this afternoon. Jo had to turn away some film business, since we need you to set it up and Jo hasn't done that sort of flying before, but we can talk about that when you come home."

String remembered there was something he wanted to ask Cait, but the thudding at the back of his skull, even though it was growing much fainter, seemed to make dredging up the fugitive thought too much work to bother. He moved his right hand automatically to scratch his left arm, encountered the cast, and recalled what it was. "Cait, is my watch or POW bracelet with my clothes? " He realized that the small wardrobe in the hospital room probably didn't hold any street clothes and he blushed.

Cait opened her large purse and rummaged around. "You know, the emergency room staff gave me what they could salvage. Good thing you'd left your wallet in your locker at the airfield." She pulled out a manila envelope holding the few things he had been wearing that survived the blast. "The watch isn't running."

"That's too bad. It's waterproof. It's my favorite fishing watch." He pointed to his injured left arm. "Not surprising it stopped, though. Could I have the bracelet?"

"Why? Saint John is home."

He looked away uncomfortably, then admitted, "I imagined giving the bracelet to him when he came home, dreamed it for years. I'd really like to do that."

Cait slipped the bracelet out of the envelope and slid it onto his right wrist. "There. When will he come in today?"

"He had an appointment at the V.A. this morning. I think Mike Rivers is going to bring him over to the hospital this afternoon. He said that Mike gets a kick out of how Dom kept his room for him, all these years. It's still the nineteen-sixties in a room in Van Nuys."

"They're getting to be friends, Rivers and Saint John, aren't they?" Dom asked.

"Yeah. Good thing," Hawke said. "I'm not much use to Saint John stuck in here. But I can't see it. Sinj is pretty quiet. Rivers, well, he never seems to stop talking. But, maybe Sinj needs that."

Cait laughed outright. "Mike is a crash course in something, maybe happy Mike-ology. He's a fine pilot, though. Jo raved about how well he flew the Lady, even though none of them understood all her capabilities. Dom, I think Jason Locke is going to bring Mike in to talk to you about flying for Santini Air."

"I can't afford another pilot," Dom sputtered.

Cait dropped her voice. "Jason has taken over the…" She looked for a way to avoid saying "Airwolf" out loud in the hospital room, "…our project from Archangel for now, and apparently Santini Air will be involved."

Hawke broke in. "We are? The deal is, well, the Firm fulfilled its part of the deal. I have to honor that."

"I don't understand it, but the Lady is still in the Lair, and I think Jason will be coming to talk to you about it."

"Jason, is it?" Dom picked up on Locke's first name.

"We seem to have a team these days. Don't worry, Dom. Jo and I are taking good care of the business, and we'll keep bringing paperwork and all in here for you."

Dom looked very troubled. "Cait, wait. You know, well, we know the bombing was directed by that mercenary who was holding Saint John. But we still don't know if that was the end of it. Maybe this team thing should wait."

"We're taking precautions. Not much more we can do about it until Jason gets more information. And nothing is going to happen with the Lady while you're still in the hospital. I get the impression the final decision may depend on what Hawke wants to do about it. Face it, Hawke, everyone thinks of the Lady as yours."

"She never was mine," Hawke objected. "I just kept her for a while. Locke can talk to me about it, but since he knows where the Lair is, I'm not sure he needs to. His call." He fingered the bracelet. "I loved flying her, but I feel, well, I feel free right now; weird, isn't it, with my leg in traction and a guard on the door to our room? But I feel like there's no more intrigue, no drama, I can fly helicopters when I get out, and get to know my brother again, and get used to thinking of Le Van as my son, and well, go back to what life was like before every minute, waking and asleep, was spent worrying about Saint John."

"Real life. That sounds wonderful. Well, that charter is in a couple hours. Toni has a meeting with her editor, but she'll stop by later. Jo will pick Le up at school."

Cait kissed Dom's cheek again, kissed Hawke's, and rushed out the door. "Beautiful girl, there," Dom observed to String. "Beautiful heart."

"Cait is getting to be like the sister I never had."

"Sister!" Dom snorted. "You worry me sometimes, String. For a smart man…"

A nurse walked in and collected Dom's crutches from the corner of the room by his bed. "Time for your morning walk." He glanced at the sack of donuts on his table and looked away, trying not to call attention to it. She spotted it.

"Diet food, I see," she said cheerfully.

Dom jerked a thumb at Hawke. "It's for him. He's too skinny."

"Of course, it is," she said. "And if you walk all the way down the hall today I'll let you keep it."

Despite the embarrassment of being seen with one leg and in a hospital gown, Dom was so happy to get out of bed that he sat up and waited while she lowered the bed so he could rest his foot on the floor. She helped him stand and pull on a bathrobe, then rested the crutches under his arms. "Don't go anywhere," he admonished String cheerfully, and swung himself forward on the crutches.

Hawke groaned at Dom's joke on cue.

Lunch consisted of some concoction of overcooked vegetables. After pushing it around on the plate, Hawke was trying to read despite his headache when Saint John walked in. Dom's snores drowned out the newscast on the television. "How can you hear yourself think, in here?" Saint John asked.

Dom jerked awake. "What?"

"Nothing, Dom." Saint John couldn't help the guilty look. "Just asking what String was reading."

"Sure. You're just making jokes about me snoring, aren't you?"

"I'd never do that."

"Right." Dom turned on his side and went back to his nap.

Saint John sat in the chair between the two beds. He noticed the strip of metal on his brother's wrist. "New hospital bracelet?" he asked.

Hawke carefully pulled the aluminum band off his right wrist. "MIA bracelet, Sinj. See?"

He held it out and Saint John took it, having to squint a little to see it. He pulled his new prescription reading glasses out of his pocket and put them on, but took them off again in frustration. "I can't get used to these things." He held the bracelet a little further away from his face. "My name and the date I was captured?"

"There was an organization that made the bracelets, so the missing in Vietnam weren't forgotten. I imagined, one day, handing it to you."

"What if I'd come home in a box, String?"

Hawke had worn the bracelet too long to let the question shake him. "Then I would have buried it with you."

Saint John took a deep breath. Finally, he asked, "What do you want me to do with it?"

"Whatever you like. You're home."

"So you wore it all the time? All these years?"

"It's a bracelet, Sinj. It just sat there."

The two brothers looked at each other as the silence grew. Saint John broke eye contact first. He looked down. "I listened to your moon shot on French-language radio. God, I was proud of you. And I figured maybe you were flying for Dom. But I thought you'd have a family by now. Why don't you?"

"I have Dom. I have you."

"You didn't have me for sixteen years. String, I imagined you with a wife, with kids, happy, healthy, busy. Instead, you're living like a monk up in our grandparents' vacation cabin in the woods."

"Remember Kelly?"

"Sure, I do. You were going to marry her. That was a tragedy, but you were just kids."

"Well, I didn't feel like jumping into another serious relationship. There was someone else, briefly, but, well, I don't want to go into that. But I haven't been living like a monk. You're not going to get a scorecard from me."

"So you steal a…" He stopped himself. "You know."

"A lot of the time, that's been fun. I hope you get a chance to fly her."

"That's crazy. When I last saw you in the 'Nam, you were a fairly normal kid. When did you get crazy?"

Hawke sighed, "I was never a fairly normal kid. But wait till you fly her, and you'll see. Ask Jo and Rivers - apparently they love flying her."

"Here's your bracelet back."

"No. It's yours. Do what you want with it. I've waited a long time to hand it to you."

Saint John looked unhappy but slipped it into his shirt pocket. "Thank you," he said quietly. He looked at his watch. "Mike is picking me up in a minute." He stood and embraced his brother over the railing of the hospital bed. "Thank you." He picked up the bifocals and shoved those into the pocket, too. He stepped back. "I probably won't be in until late tomorrow. They're going to pull two teeth that are too far gone to be saved. They said maybe I could get implants instead of false teeth, whatever that is. Anyway, I'll be swollen and sore and partly toothless when I come to see you tomorrow afternoon."

Hawke grinned. "Maybe it'll be an improvement."

"It'll be a new fashion. Everyone will want it."

"Would you two pipe down and let me sleep?" Dom demanded. "Sheesh. This is a hospital."

"Yes, Dom," the brothers intoned together.

Saint John turned to go. "And you tell that dentist not to hurt you," Dom added.

Amusement filled Saint John's voice. "I'll do that," he said, and stopped by Dom's bed to give him a quick hug. "See you tomorrow."


End file.
